I've been intrigued by Ether One since time immemorial. However, if someone were to leap in my head, run around its ominously dark docks that might be some kind of metaphor, and eventually put together all the pieces, they'd find that it's been a few months. And also that I have a really bad memory. The latest trailer for the brain-bending, reality-warping first-person puzzler continues its frantic wander down memory lane, but now there are mysterious outside forces involved. While our intrepid hero (?) gets lost in someone else's thoughts, cold, dispassionate voices argue cryptically. Meanwhile, female lead and, er, game world Jean only gets in a couple quick words of her own: "Help me." Also, a billion different things flash on screen and nothing makes sense ever. Everrrrrrr. But in a good way.
Looks wild, right? Especially given that it's coming from such a small studio. But yeah, that didn't make a lick of sense - let alone two, three, or the almighty, forbidden number you'd need to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop. A snazzy new-ish Ether website does, however, at least define what exactly a Restorer is.
"You are a Restorer, an individual with a lost identity who is sent into the minds of mentally ill humans to restructure their broken memories. Tasked with restoring the mind of a client named Jean you must explore the depths of her memories in order to rebuild the fragile structures within."
"Restore her memories. Restore yours."
Which is something we pretty much already knew, but now they gave it a fancy title. Honestly, though, I much prefer to dive into things like this with little-to-no foreknowledge. Slipping us a handy package full of Ether's deepest, darkest secrets would kind of defeat the purpose.
Unless it's this specific RPS interview. Then it's completely fine. Because reasons. (Seriously, though, it'll definitely give you a better idea of what the game, you know, is.)
Ether One's still aiming for an "early 2013" release date. It looks to be coming along very, very nicely, as well. Are you interested? Does it haunt your spine-rattlingly sterile, mechanically-induced dreams?